


DONO REMEMBERS

by Zoya1416



Series: If Ever I Would Leave You [3]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Canonical Rape/Non-con, F/M, rape historical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:06:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya1416/pseuds/Zoya1416
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I doubt,” said Dono in a suddenly clinical tone, “that anyone would care, at this late date that he tried to rape me when I was twelve, and when I fought him off, drowned my new puppy in retaliation. After all, no one cared at the time.” ACC.</p><p>  Dono finally releases old memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DONO REMEMBERS

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ollipop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ollipop/gifts).



> Thanks to ollipop, who wanted more Dono, I've learned so much about who he is.  
> This is slightly non-canon, but I believe Dono explains it best himself. During Civil Campaign.

Dono Vorrutyer rolled over and sat up on the side of the bed. Beside him, Olivia Vorrutyer turned on the light. 

“Dono, I'm sorry. This wasn't a good time for you, was it?”

“I'm not sure it will ever be a good time. I'm not sure about anything anymore.”

“What's wrong? This has been going on for weeks, and you don't want to talk about it.'

He was silent a long time, fussing with his black beard. “Olivia, please forgive me. There are things in my past I've never told anyone. When I went to Beta Colony all I could think about was defeating Richars and getting the Countship. I knew that when they were through with me, I'd be able to sire children. That's all I could think of. They did psych profiles on me, but it was a big rush job. I suppose if they'd had more time, I could have told them—could have let it all come out, but I fooled everyone. Even myself for awhile.”

She got up and came over to his side of the bed, carrying their robes. “Here. Let's be warm together.” Her long blond hair swept down like a curtain beside her face.

“Olivia—you're the most wonderful person I've ever known. But I'm so afraid if you know about this, you're going to hate me and leave me.”

“Why? What happened, Dono?”

He shuddered. “Let's get out of this bed and sit on the couch. And I'm going to get some whiskey. Do you want anything?”

Sitting on the couch, a blanket wrapped around them, Dono fussed around again, stroking and tugging on his mustache. Finally he began. “Do you remember my saying Richars tried to rape me when I was twelve, and I fought him off and he killed my puppy?”

“Yes, of course. You told me that ages ago.”

Looking at his feet, he said, “That wasn't exactly the way things happened. He did rape me, and he killed my puppy when I said I'd tell my parents.”

“God, no, Dono!”

“Yes. He was pretty brutal. For a long time I couldn't remember it. Then when I got married, I still didn't—I had remembered it, but just pushed it down again. I kept telling myself the story where he'd only tried. But it came back, and in a horrible way. I could remember it during—sex and---” he stopped again, picking at a worn spot in the upholstery.

“Please tell me.”

He held the whiskey glass up and took a large swallow of amber liquid, wincing at the familiar bite.

“I coped with the memories by shutting off what had really happened, ah, dissociating at times like I wasn't even there, and imagined—being Richars. Tormenting someone. It was—I imagined—I fantasized—being a rapist, hurting someone—women—and I liked it. Got off on it...for years...still do...sometimes, even though I hate myself for it. It's one of the reasons the porno flicks didn't work for me. Too much...shame, I guess.”

“You—raped women? When you were still a woman? I'm not understanding.”

“No, no—it's hard to explain. When I was having—during sex, I would imagine being the man, and raping the woman and enjoying it—I did this over and over again. I've never told anyone this before.” He glanced unhappily at her.

Olivia absorbed this. “But you never did abuse anyone?”

“No. I was Donna the cheerful slut. Sometimes I even liked it. Sometimes I would pick men who would abuse me and imagine I was them, doing it to me—I can't explain it. But it affects me at the weirdest times, and now that I have you, and I really am a man—I can't make love without thinking that I will hurt you.”

She left aside for the moment the fact that he couldn't really hurt her. She outreached him, weighed a bit more, and was Drou Koudelka's daughter.

“But you liked it when I danced for you—you weren't faking that, I know.”

Dono smiled for the first time. “You were absolutely overwhelming and so loving. And I didn't know what was coming at me next. It was spontaneous, and—what I've wanted all my life. God, you were glorious. Everything that I had hoped for. But I can't ask you to do the seven-veil dance every time.”

“Did you—you were with Ivan a long time, off and on? Did he know about this?”  
Olivia tried to think of tall, handsome Ivan dealing with a Dono far more complicated than him.

He laughed. “No. Lord, no. Ivan was what I needed then. He's so naive, simple, straightforward. I could relax and be a normal woman with him because he was so ideal a man. He's honest, kind, caring, in that doofus way of his. Then when he took command and got us to Vorpatril House, that night I was attacked, I realized he's a lot smarter, and braver, than I knew.”

“Do you want to talk to anyone about this? Maybe Tante Cordelia could help.”

“I absolutely refuse to have Cordelia Vorkosigan picking through my brain. She's no trained therapist, and I don't, just don't, want the Vorkosigans to have this over me. I'd feel obligated to vote with Miles every time, and I'm not going to do it.” This came out in a rush.

“Can I talk to Kareen? I know Mark's had some problems, that's why he's getting therapy on Beta.”

“No! Did you not hear me? No Vorkosigans, no more running off to Beta. I'm staying here and taking care of it the best I can, and I will not, not, have my half-crazy brother-in-law knowing this about me!” He shouted at her.

He stood up and began to pace. “It's no good. No good. Let me have some eggs, and I'll get some babies started, and you can divorce me. The children will belong to me, anyway.” He stopped, appalled, hearing what he'd just said.

“Really?” she said silkily, and he remembered that she had trained in martial arts since she could walk. “That's your solution? Do you think for one minute I would give children to an unstable man, Barrayaran traditions be damned? I'd see myself back home and get my Da appointed guardian. And I can throw you ass over teakettle any day of the week!” Now she was shouting at him.

He went to the closet and began throwing on clothes. “I'm going out. Don't come after me.”

Olivia was not the kind of woman to give up easily. She choked off her tears, and went to her comconsole. Throughout that night, and for the two terrible days when she didn't know where he was, she read voraciously about rape, dissociation, trauma disorders, and finally about operant conditioning.

When he finally returned home, he was dirty and hungover. She didn't question him, but drew a warm bath. When he was resting in it, she said, “Can I wash your hair?”

“I guess so. Look, Olivia, it's not--”

“Shh, just let me.” She continued to rub his scalp with sweet smelling lavender-scented shampoo. He went straight to bed and slept twelve hours.

When he finally woke up, she was lying next to him. Neither said anything, but she reached for his hand and held it. He gripped hers tightly.

Over the next few weeks, she gradually increased physical contact with him, rewarding him with smiles and soft words when he would allow her to brush his shoulder or rub his back. One day he sat on the couch, with her head in his lap. She caught one of his hands and began to nibble on his fingers. She rolled her head over his lap a little.

“Olivia, stop it.”

“No, just relax. I'm here and Richars is not. And you were never a rapist.”

“No, I thought about it for thirty years.”

“But that's fantasy. That's not reality. You didn't hurt anybody. And people use all sorts of mental quirks in fantasy.” Olivia remembered some of the things she knew about Mark. Dono had no idea how normal he really was. “You didn't ever even tie anyone up, did you? Or beat them, or use them in cruel ways?”

His quick shake of the head convinced her. “But I've thought for years that I would. That I would change from Donna, a bright easy-going companion who at times could love, into one of THOSE Vorrutyers. The family name should be 'Vorrutters, really.”

“Dono, watch this with me, honey.”

She tapped a vid control on. The familiar haunting melody she had hummed weeks ago came on, with a twirling dancer. The dancer was wearing low-slung filmy trousers, a wide belt with lots of gold-colored coins which made jingling noises, and a low cut top of what looked like purple velvet. It had coins on it, too. She had finger cymbals, and amazing control of her abdominal muscles.

She was quite entrancing.

Despite his depression, Dono smiled. “She's remarkable. You can see cheap versions of this in the caravanserai—which is where I wen-”

“Be quiet and watch.” 

He tangled his hand in her hair while they watched the dancer.

More days followed while Olivia drew Dono out, leading him gently with small pats and kisses to a greater intimacy. There came a time where she wore a belly dancing costume herself, and sat straddling him on the couch. Her thighs pinned him down, while her breasts bobbed at face height. She breathed over him, rolling her trunk forward and back while the velvet top just brushed his mouth. He groaned for the first time in months, and started breathing deeper. 

Finally, she judged him ready.

“Hold my hips.” He looked up at her and bit his lips, uncertain.

“Please.”

He reached around and cupped them, breathing in her lavender perfume. She continued shaking her cymbals around him.

“Feel my belly.” He complied, slowly stroking down to the top of her pants.

She paused a second, and a shiver of pleasure ran through her.

“I'm here, I'm your woman, and this is all you want. All you need.”  
He kissed her bejeweled navel.

“Touch my breasts.”

He reached out to her glittering top, stroking her breasts a moment, then he suddenly pulled the top down, exposing her. He bent to lick them, teasing his tongue lower. 

“Ooo. That feels nice.” She held his head and pulled his face gently towards hers. “More?”

He nodded, eyes open and dark, but less tense than she'd seen him for ages.  
“You're sure now? You're my husband and I want you, and you want me, and that is all you want? Right?”  
He nodded.

She was moving on top of him, her breasts bobbing up and down. He reached up to the clasp of her top, loosened it and then took quickly took it all the way off, kissing the soft skin of her neck and arms. He bent to her freed breasts, stirring her nipples now with little licks, even capturing one and nibbling carefully. She was arching and straining now, and increasing speed as she rocked her pelvis up and down. 

He picked her up and carried her to the bed, smiling at her. The harem pants came off in his hand. He reached lower down, stroked her in the right place with certainty, finally slipping two fingers inside her with his thumb lazily revolving over the nub. She came, shuddering, arching. He held her until she quieted. 

She dozed off a minute, to be awakened by his gently separating her legs, kissing all the way up her thighs, and reaching up for her beautiful breasts. He drew himself over her and hesitated for a moment.

“Olivia, I'm here. I'm really here. Richars is disappearing, he's so small now. He can't hurt me now. I don't have to be like him, even in my mind.”

“No.”

He entered her, and began to thrust firmly. This time they finished together.

The next day when he came upstairs after chivvying the cleaners, she was in the dressing room and he called over to her.

“This is ridiculous!” He was growling over an invoice. “They're gouging me! I can't get them to come again tomorrow, and they've only really done the first floor. And they're telling me that it's double their estimate, because it hasn't been done for a long time, and it's special 'deep cleaning!'”

“We only need a little bit of it to live in now. It's three stories high.”

“Yes, but the armsmen can't live here yet, and I haven't even really looked at the landscaping. I want this pile to be in shape for entertaining, and it's just not happening fast enough and—oh wow!” His mouth dropped open.

She came out from the dressing room, wearing red harem pants and nothing else. She was putting on her zils.

“Liv, wow. But you don't have to do this every night, if you don't want to. I'll be okay.”

“This is a special occasion.”

“Oh?”

“It's our four-month anniversary.”

“Oh, hell, I forgot, and it's been so messed up--”

“Shut it.”

He grinned at her. “So—I just get this once a month, is that right? I think tomorrow is the six month anniversary of when I first kissed you, and the next day, um, I'll think of something by then.”

“We'll see. How do you feel about nurses?”

“Hmm.” He pretended to ponder, tapping his mouth with a finger. “Maybe sexy librarians?”

 

One year later

After the babies had been washed and cleaned, and wrapped in blankets, Olivia and Dono sat in the quiet alcove. Dono had asked Olivia to tell her parents to wait a few minutes before they came in.

He sat there, cuddling a pink-wrapped bundle, tears streaming down his face. Olivia knew him well enough by now to let him regroup on his own from his emotional jags.

Finally he said, “I never got around to having children, and I gave up my chances of becoming a mother when I went to Beta Colony. I was so determined to have children to secure the succession of the Countship, and now,” he reached over to touch the blue-wrapped bundle Olivia had. “Now, I have. But I never thought about what it would be like to be a father, how I could even become something different from my parents.” (The ones who didn't believe in a daughter's story, or seemed not to care, he meant). “So beautiful, and tiny, and soft.” He stared at the children in disbelief.

And gene-cleaned, thought Olivia. There was no need to mention it. The next generation of these Vorrutyers would not carry the twisted heritage of Richars or Ges, or even the desperate, compulsive sexuality of Donna. She reached for her husband's hand.

The never-far-off snark returned. “So we can have four more next year? Pleeeeze?”

Releasing his hand, she thumped him on his head and nodded. “Yes. And you get to stay up with them every night.” They snickered at each other.


End file.
